A year after double fatality, remaining sibling carries on

Brother wonders how life would have been different if Zane and Zoie had lived.

Brother wonders how life would have been different if Zane and Zoie had lived.

September 08, 2008|By ALICIA GALLEGOS Tribune Staff Writerr

BREMEN -- It's quittin' time, and Zach Triplet finishes wiping clean his toolbox in the tractor garage before climbing into his black Ford 350 and starting down the road. The 28-year-old cracks the window and lights a cigarette just as he launches into an animated story about his brother, Zane, and the truck the teenager used to drive. Zach bought a 1979 Ford for his little brother, he explains. Together, the brothers had bodywork done on it, installed new parts and were almost finished with a new paint job. The gift was for all the times Zane helped Zach on the farm and all those tractor projects as a team. Today, the truck sits inside their grandparents' barn, untouched. "We're about to sell it," Zach says, shaking his head. "Nobody wants to drive it anymore." A year has now passed since Zane and little sister Zoie were both killed. The two died when their minivan crossed the centerline on U.S. 6 near Bremen and collided head-on with an RV. Zane was 17. Zoie was 8. Zach spends a lot of time alone now, he says, driving and trying to sort through an endless stream of thoughts. Like Zane's old pickup, a million sights and sounds a day remind Zach of his brother and sister. Last fall, he tried to take his brother's truck out to check crops, but eventually he left the truck parked. "Every time we get in," Zach says, "I look over and expect him to open the door and get in the passenger seat." Life-altering accident That Saturday afternoon in July started like any other, with Zane and Zoie both gone to a golf outing in Rochester. After playing their respective games, the two hopped back in the family's minivan and stopped at Burger King for lunch before heading home. A few miles from home, Zane crossed the centerline on U.S. 6 for an unknown reason, colliding with the recreational vehicle. Zoie was pronounced dead at the scene. Zane died later at the hospital. No one in the motor home was seriously injured. Zach and his parents say they don't waste time on the maddening question: What went wrong? Seat belts were on, family members say, and the day was clear. "I just don't see how I'm going to be angry at someone," dad Tony Triplet says. "It's called an accident for a reason. If you get in that direction, it can suck you in." At the Triplets' Bremen home, just south of New Road on Miami Highway, the couple sit outside on their back patio and speak about their children. "For us it was right away empty nest syndrome," remembers Tony Triplet. "How quiet it was," wife Sherri adds. "It was like all of a sudden, no one was here." Shortly after their children's deaths, Tony remembers how a friend pulled the couple aside and told them the tragedy would either pull them closer or tear them apart. But, the Triplets say, they can't imagine surviving without the other. "We're lucky we have each other," Tony says. "There's times when I'm the strong one, and there's times he's the strong one," Sherri chimes in. Tony says they worry about their oldest son. "He has some questions about why he's here, they're there," Tony says. Three peas in a pod As Zach drives down the highway, he is quick with an anecdote about his siblings, pride mixing with amusement in his eyes. Zane was the prankster, great at sports, but a slacker when it came to early mornings. Zoie was fearless, determined to do everything her brothers did, a rising softball player and best friend to a cow named Bubba. Every Saturday morning, the three Triplet children would ride together to a small restaurant just south of Mishawaka for breakfast. Over coffee at the Woodland Inn -- heavy on the cream and sugar for Zoie -- the siblings would talk, laugh and tease each other. With Zach around, Zoie knew she could rib her middle brother a little more and get away with it. Zach is a vault of humorous stories about his siblings but rarely talks about himself, unless asked. He pauses when the subject turns somber, collecting his thoughts before speaking. Since his siblings' deaths, he's become more a loner, he says. The tractor repairman usually spends a combined 80 hours a week working. After a full day, he drives either to his aunt's farm or to his grandparents' home in Bremen to help with whatever they need. Working more makes his life feel fuller, he says, although he can never quiet his wandering mind. "The wheels are always turning in my mind," Zach says. "Depending on the day, it can be good or bad." "I worry about everything. I worry about how long my grandfathers will still be here. I worry about if I'll ever get married. "(I wonder), 'How would life have been different if the kids were still here?'æ" Empty chairs On a recent Saturday morning, Zach is planted in his spot at the Woodland Inn, the morning breakfast crowd having just cleared out. It was a long while before Zach could go back to the Woodland Inn without Zane and Zoie. "For me, it was kinda weird. I was the oldest, I was the one who did everything first ..." his voice trails off. "When an older person dies, you feel sorry for those they left behind. But when a young person dies, you feel sorry for the young person who didn't get to fulfill their life." While his grandparents have since sought out a support group in Plymouth and his dad had some one-on-one counseling at one time, Zach shakes his head when asked whether he ever considers such a group. He just deals with things on his own, he answers. Zach drops into the Woodland twice a month now, catching up with old friends and neighbors. "It never gets better," he says, "it just gets easier. A year ago there was such sorrow of the loss. Things didn't seem right. "Every day you have memories. Why even concentrate on the negative? There are so many positive ones." The day Zach and Zane were told a baby sister was coming. The time Zoie fell asleep on the tractor seat. The trip where Zach convinced Zane he was really adopted from Poland. When the oldest brother reflects on his siblings and his life, these are the memories he concentrates on now. These are the moments he tries to remember. A shared tombstone Where Zane and Zoie are buried is less than a mile from the Triplets' home. The small grove of graves is just off Miami, surrounded by fields of soybeans. Grandma and Grandpa Dutoi originally planned to rest in the plots Zane and Zoie now share. The single black limestone grave marker sits next to their great-grandparents', engraved with both children's names. "It's country," Marilyn Dutoi says of the cemetery. "It's what they were. They were born here and lived here their whole lives." Although she wasn't sure at first, having the spot so close is comforting, Sherri says. "I don't think there's a more appropriate place," Zach adds. "That's how it should be." The family also agrees that it's fitting that the two children share a tombstone, considering they were so close. "I really don't think Zane could've lived knowing he drove the car and she died," Marilyn says, shaking her head. "He loved her so much." Zach nods firmly, his hands in his pockets as he stares at the ground. "I don't think he could've handled it," he says. "So," his grandma finishes with tears in her eyes. "They're better off together." While his mom and grandma reminisce, Zach's gaze moves behind them, beyond the busy road and up toward the bulbous clouds and light blue sky. After a second, he nudges his mother and stares across the street as he whispers, "Mom, do you see that? Is that a rainbow?" Sherri turns along with her mother. A smile lights up her tear-streaked face. It is, in fact, a faint half-rainbow, hanging above the road even without the slightest hint of rain in the sky. Zach laughs; he just wanted to make sure he wasn't going crazy. And just a moment later, almost as soon as Zach spotted it, the rainbow fades, its colors vanishing somewhere above. Staff Writer Alicia Gallegos: agallegos@sbtinfo.com (574) 235-6368